Monsters Moments
by Coyote Blues
Summary: This is a collection of scenes/chapters that didn't make the final cut into "Monsters." For background on all characters, please read "Monsters" first on my profile. These stories are ideal for fans of: Azazel/Raven, Azazel/Raven/Kurt family moments, Kurt/Wanda, Peter, Charles, Erik, teenage X-Men, and life vignettes in Westchester. Warning: major spoilers for "Monsters."
1. Chapter 1

**Monsters Moments**

 _Author's Note: Hello, dear readers! This "story" is actually a collection of shorts/one-shots that didn't make the final cut into my full-length, multi-chapter story_ "Monsters." _The decision for a writer to omit scenes is never easy; I love all the little moments and interactions that give heart & soul to my characters. But, since my plan to align _"Monsters" _with the film_ "X-Men Apocalypse," _this meant that some of these scenes didn't quite fit in with my overall storyboard. Many of these vignettes are also domestic and everyday (my personal favorite!) instead of action, so I felt they may have detracted too much from the exciting sequences and pacing of the main story._

 _Therefore, I present:_ "Monsters Moments." _All characters and timeline are_ "Monsters" _cannon, and I will give chapter references where appropriate. Each "chapter" will be a different short/one-shot, and they are not sequential; some might happen before my story "Monsters" begins, and some in the future. I am still turning all these little scenes into full one-shot stories, so posting might be erratic, but I will try my best to give you something new every two weeks until I run out of scenes. Also, I always consider reader prompts/requests! Give a shout out in a review or shoot me a DM and we'll chat. I can't promise I'll write your idea, but readers/reviews do inspire my writing._

 _For those of you new to my stories, please check out the story_ "Monsters" _for a full-background on character history (I think you'll be happy you did)._

 _ **Warning** : "_Monsters Moments" _contains major spoilers for "_Monsters" _right from the first scene, so if you don't like spoilers, please read_ "Monsters" _first. Thanks!_

 _I hope you enjoy reading these little scenes as much as I enjoy writing them! Without further ado..._


	2. Thanks for Giving

**Thanks for Giving**

 _It's Kurt's first Thanksgiving with his mutant family, and he's determined to experience this uniquely America holiday to its fullest. Unfortunately, frozen turkeys, arguments over football, and general mishaps are threatening to derail the whole thing. This scene takes place after_ "Monsters" _Chapter 57 and during family's first year in America. Written in honor of the upcoming American holiday (and maybe, so you can read something if you need to take a break from your family)._

 _ **Warning:** The below scene contains major spoilers for the story _"Monsters." _If you don't like spoilers, then please read_ "Monsters" _first before reading this collection. Thanks!_

* * *

"I've never cooked a _turkey_ before. Or made... herbed-apple _stuffing_? _Cranberry_ sauce?" Clarice furrowed her brow as she flipped through the beaten copy of American Home Cooking that Kurt found in the library. There were so many foreign ingredients listed that she'd never heard of, let alone worked with. _Or could even pronounce_.

" _Ooo_ , don't forget _pumpkin pie!_ " Peter added as he tapped the last nail into the wall. He stepped back to admire the _Rush_ poster he'd hung for her. A second later, he was sitting on her bed, his arm slung around her shoulders. "Pumpkin pie is the _best_ part of dinner."

"Mom's _kolatczkis_ are way better that Aunt Lorna's pie," Wanda argued from the floor, where she sat next to Kurt.

" _No_ way!"

" _Yeah_ way!"

"Kurt, I'm not sure about this," Clarice ignored the Maximoffs sparring and put the book down. She was still getting used to making American recipes, and here Kurt was asking her to cook an _entire_ holiday dinner. A _traditional_ American dinner, at that.

"But we can _try!_ You're _amazing_ in the kitchen; how hard can it be?" Her nephew looked up from where he lay on his stomach, legs up and tail wagging in the air. He blinked, all wide-eyed and innocent. She shook her head and picked-up the cookbook again. Kurt was nearly impossible to say _no_ to, especially when he was this excited about something and _especially_ when he made _that_ cute face. After chatting with Wanda about her family's upcoming holiday plans in Boston, Kurt got the _brilliant_ idea that the Wagner-Darkhölme family should also celebrate the traditional American holiday at Westchester, especially since it was the first year Clarice and Azazel were technically _Americans_. Of course, she and Azazel never celebrated such holidays; actually, Clarice couldn't remember the last time the two celebrated anything like a calendar holiday. The siblings had their own private anniversaries, but nothing like this highly food-oriented event Kurt recently discovered. He and Wanda appeared at her bedroom door just twenty minutes ago, bursting with excitement and a cookbook. She'd humored Kurt - she always did - but now with Peter and Wanda chiming in with pointers and ideas, his little request was starting to spiral out of control. She had to rein his expectations.

"Ok, how about this: how many people will even be here for..." Clarice looked back at him. " _'Thanks for Giving'_? Is that what it's called?"

" _Thanksgiving_. Ok, let's see..." Kurt sat up and eagerly began counting. "There's mom, dad, me, and you, so that's four; then, there's Uncle Charles and Dr. McCoy, so that make six people - _maybe_ seven if Dr. McCoy invites his lady friend Ms. Crocker - and you've cooked for four of us before. Six or seven isn't so bad, _right?_ "

 _Six or seven people really doesn't sound impossible_ , Clarice thought, pursing her lips. _This might be..._

"Don't forget about Ororo and Warren!" Wanda held up two more fingers. "They don't have family here, so that's actually eight or nine people."

"Oh, and _my_ dad!" Peter snapped his fingers and pointed at Clarice. "Mom said he's not allowed at the house for holidays. Well, not _yet_ , anyways, so it'd be _super rad_ if you invited him to dinner. He still raves about the last time you cooked for us at his cabin." Peter gave her a pleadingly, puppy-dog smile, making her groan. She couldn't say _no_ to that face, either.

"And what about Alex and Scott?" Clarice asked, rubbing her forehead. "What are their plans?"

"I can ask Scott when I see him next period, and he'll..." Kurt paused and smacked his head. " _Oh!_ I almost forgot: Jean and Jubilee will be here for the weekend, so we should invite them, too."

"So, we're talking a potential menu for... _fourteen people?!_ " Clarice looked incredulously at her nephew. "Honey, I've _never_ cooked for _that_ many people before. Before you and Raven, I really only ever made food for me and your dad, and God-only-knows Azazel will eat _anything_."

"How much harder can cooking for a few more people be? You just _increase_ the amount of food. I'll help, and I'm sure a few others will too." Kurt teleported onto her bed and grabbed her hands pleadingly. " _Please_ , Auntie Clarice? For me?"

" _Gah_ , fine!" Clarice resigned and Kurt erupted into a bright, toothy smile. She squeezed his hands. "Come on, let's go ask your uncle if we can use the school's kitchen before this gets even _more_ out of hand. Besides, someone's got to _pay_ for all this food."

* * *

" _Entschuldigen,_ Uncle Charles? May we come in?"

Charles glanced up from his lesson plans to see Kurt and Clarice standing in his office doorway. The latter was clutching a book to her chest, and Kurt was wringing his tail in both hands, a nervous habit that let Charles know immediately that his nephew wanted something.

"You're _always_ welcome in my office, any time," he smiled warmly as he put his pen down and bade them to enter. Both took quickly took seats. The telepath could practically feel waves of excitement rolling off them. "Now, what seems to be on your minds?"

"So, I've been reading about _American_ holidays, since we're in _America_ , and my mom's _American_ and so's my dad and aunt now kinda; I mean, I guess they are technically still _Russian_ and _Vietnamese_ , but you know what I mean, because Ms. MacTaggert got them _American_ passports, which legally makes them _Americans_ , and so..."

"Kurt, _slow down_ and take a breath," Charles held up a hand. Kurt gave him a shy, lopsided smile and his cheeks flushed lavender, which in turn made the telepath smile. It was times like these that his nephew reminded Charles so very much of a teenage Raven when she'd been excited about something (usually something that would get them both grounded for a month) and tried to enlist Charles's help. "I can tell you want something, so lay it on me: what's your request?"

"I want to celebrate a _real_ _American_ Thanksgiving: invite everyone staying here for the holiday, cook a big dinner, drink a bunch of wine..."

" _No drinking!_ " Charles interrupted sharply. He didn't want to sound like a _stick-in-the-mud_ , but the telepath promised himself he'd _never_ _again_ deal with the situation he'd encountered the morning after Azazel and Clarice's surprise party. Having one's own hangover was bad enough; telepathically dealing with hungover teens who raided the bar after he and Moira sneaked away ( _thank you,_ _Hank_ ) was so, so much _worse_.

"... Ok, well then play football in the yard, make a wish on a wishbone, you know; the whole shebang!" Kurt described his idea in full, and Clarice filled in the gaps where necessary. The indigo teen ended his pitch with with his arms out wide like a showman, waiting for Charles' response. The telepath sat back and rubbed his chin as he mulled it over.

"We haven't hosted Thanksgiving here since your mother and I were teenagers," Charles mused. "The holiday's in two days, and it's _a lot_ of work, perhaps a bit more than you realize." He looked evenly at Kurt, and the teen's smile faded a bit. Charles admired his nephew's determination and reckless enthusiasm, but this request seemed like quite an undertaking.

"Look, I'll menu plan and run the kitchen, and Kurt can organize the other activities," Clarice added, putting her hand on the boy's shoulder. "But, I'll need to use the school's kitchen to cook for such a large group. I'm sure some of the guests will volunteer to help me, too. And, _maybe_ we need a little help _paying_ for all the food. But other than that, how hard can it really be?"

" _Please_ Uncle Charles?" Kurt pleaded. "We'll do _all_ the work and planning and cooking and washing dishes and _whatever_ else is needed."

"Well in that case," Charles resigned with an easy smile. "Why not? It sounds like _fun!_ "

* * *

"Have you lost your _damn_ mind?" Raven moaned as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Across the kitchen table sat her brother, grinning like an idiot. The faint hum of the television echoed from the living room area, where Azazel was engrossed in some soap opera. He'd always been good about giving her and Charles privacy when her brother visited, even in their small cabin. _Besides_ , Raven mused, _there was no interrupting Azazel when he tuned into one of his stupid daytime shows._

"Oh come on," Charles argued playfully. "You remember how much fun Thanksgiving was when we were kids? Kurt just wants to have a similar experience."

"Charles, _we_ had fun because your mother and step-father had a horde of _hired help_ doing all the work. All we had to do was eat and play with your parents' friends' kids. We didn't have to _cook_ , or _wash_ dishes, _plan_ activities or _coordinate_ everyone's schedules. Kurt's talking about _making_ an entire Thanksgiving dinner. That's a whole different story!"

"Making dinner? That does _nyet_ sound like so big a deal." Azazel suddenly appeared in the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee and turned to face them, leaning against the sink. His tail twitched casually at his feet as he sipped his coffee.

"Yeah, normally it's not a big deal, except now we're talking about Kurt and Clarice _making_ a dinner for... wait, how many, again?"

"Fourteen, assuming Hank's girlfriend joins us."

" _What?_ That's an _army_!" Raven groaned. She loved her son's enthusiasm, but even with Clarice's help, the kid was getting in way over his head.

"I do _nyet_ see problem. Clarice _likes_ cooking, and is very good at it. Wants to go to _special school_ for it, even. If she and Kurt want to make dinner for fourteen, let them. When someone offering to make me dinner, I am fine with this." Azazel shrugged.

"Oh, _really_?" Raven eyed him warily. "You mean, like how you are fine with that _every day_ of your life because you never make dinner?"

" _Nyet_ true!" The red mutant looked mildly affronted. He put down his mug and pointed at her. "I _made_ dinner just last week. Remember? You were tired from work so I surprised you."

"You _picked up_ Chinese take out," Raven rubbed her forehead. "For the last time, that doesn't count as _making_ dinner!"

"There was _nyet_ food, I made food appear, _same_ difference!" The red man crossed his arms almost in challenge. Across the way, her brother shook his head and laughed.

"Don't you have a TV show to go watch?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

" _Nyet_ , is over for today."

"Did they figure out who the killer was yet?" Charles leaned forward, his elbows on the table and his interest clearly peaked. Azazel nodded vigorously, and Raven rolled her eyes.

" _Da_ , it was her cousin's long-lost _twin_ brother!" he answered excitedly. "They only caught him because he wore eye patch on wrong eye."

"I _knew_ it!"

" _Zaz?_ " Raven said, made a shooing motion. Catching her hint, the red man smirked and grabbed his coffee mug. A second later, tendrils of red and black smoke marked where her husband once stood.

"So, back to this _fiasco_ you authorized..." She started, waving the smoke away, but Charles merely held up his hand.

"Raven really, it's _alright_. Kurt is planning the activities, Clarice is managing the cooking, and she'll have plenty of help. I'll even be assisting in the kitchen, so really, there's _nothing_ to..."

"God save us all, _you're_ helping cook dinner?" The blue woman put her hands over her face. She looked at her brother through splayed fingers. "Ok, make that dinner for _thirteen_ because I'm _not_ sacrificing my taste-buds!"

* * *

 ** _Thanksgiving Day - 9:00 AM_**

"How the _hell_ was I supposed to know the turkey would be _frozen?_ " Clarice lamented, smacking the bird hard with a wooden spoon. It was solid as a rock, and she was surprised the spoon didn't break upon hitting it. "Why doesn't this country eat anything fresh? What is with Americans _freezing_ things?!"

"Maybe if we turn the oven higher, it will cook faster?" Jean suggested, biting her lip.

"No, that's _not_ how it works." Clarice sighed, rubbing her forehead. She needed a few minutes to think through this dilemma.

"Oh! I could _totally_ use my powers to..." Jubilee started moving towards the frozen bird, her fingertips crackling.

" _No! No mutations in the kitchen!_ " The Professor cried out, wheeling over to block Jubilee from advancing on the turkey. Ororo glanced up sheepishly from where she was sweeping up a the pile of broken dishes. The man looked at her and sighed. "Sorry Ororo; I didn't mean to... _look_ , let's everyone just be a bit more _careful,_ alright?"

Clarice pulled her hands away and looked at the clock. It wasn't even ten in the morning and already they'd had two cooking accidents, couldn't find the tinfoil or a big enough roasting pan, and now she'd been presented with frozen turkey. _A frozen goddamn turkey!_ The recipe she planned called for a _fresh_ turkey; she had no idea how long it would take to thaw the thing and get it in the oven. _We're so far behind, and now..._

A wet dishrag smacked her in the face, interrupting her inner turmoil.

" _Oh my God! Sorry!_ " Jean apologized as Clarice made a face and pulled the dirty rag away. The young telepath ran over and quickly snatched it from her. "I was trying to send it to Ororo and..."

"What did I just say about _no mutations_ in the kitchen?!" The Professor wailed. "Use your feet, not your mind. _Please!_ "

Clarice could practically feel the stain creeping into the man's voice.

"How is everything...?" Kurt poked his head in but Clarice must have shot him a look of pure murder because he quickly thrust his hands in the air as if in a guilty surrender. She turned back to survey her kitchen volunteers, who were so far proving to be more of a _hindrance_ than any actual _help_.

"Ok, listen up everyone: I have to focus on fixing this frozen bird, so Professor, you're in charge of the appetizer; Jean, you assist; Jubes, I need you on the first course, which is the squash soup; and Ororo, you help chop vegetables and keep washing the dishes and anything else people ask you to do. Got it?" Her team nodded.

"How can I help?" Kurt asked from the doorway.

"Just keep everyone out of the kitchen, yourself included. I've got my hands full and don't need any more distractions..." Clarice suddenly spotted Freddy Mercury on the counter, enthusiastically licking the turkey.

" _Freddy, no! Down! Get down!_ " She screamed, but being a cat, he ignored her and continued to eat his prize. Before Clarice could say anything more, Ororo raised her hands and created a gentle wind to push the cat off the counter. Unfortunately, her wind also gently pushed off a bag of flour, which sent a plume of white dust into the air, the bulk of which settled on the Professor and Jubilee.

" _Oh no!_ " The African girl grimaced. Clarice put her hands over her face and counted backwards from ten to clam her mind. She then heard the unmistakable sound of Kurt teleporting rapidly around the kitchen, trying to catch Freddy and in the process, upsetting even more ingredients.

" _Here kitty!_ "

" _Watch out!_ "

" _No mutations in the kitchen!_ "

 _Why did I ever agree to this?_ Clarice moaned internally. She would be _thankful_ when this day was over.

* * *

 _ **11:00 AM**_

"Who's ready for some _football_?" Azazel glanced over at the sound of Alex's voice. The young man whistled and tossed a ball to his younger brother as the two approached Azazel's group on school's main athletic field. Kurt had gleefully herded the male guests outside about ten minutes prior, where they'd been waiting for the Summers boys to get their game started. Oddly, Raven joined them just a few minutes ago, and was chatting quietly with Erik.

Azazel wasn't yet sold on this whole _Thanks for Giving_ holiday that Kurt was pushing. He understood that the day had historical significance in this country, and he knew his son was very enthusiastic about all things American. All he knew from the boy's sales pitch was that there'd be a lot of traditional American food, and that the men were supposed to play games while the women cooked before everyone sat down to talk about what they were grateful for in their lives. It all seemed a bit silly _,_ but for some reason, it was important to Kurt, and so Azazel was willing to humor his son for the day.

"What is _that?_ " He pointed at the brown object Scott twirled in his hands. The boy smiled and lobbed it at him. Azazel caught it easily and turned it over in his hands. It was a strange looking ball of some kind.

"What do you mean?" Scott tilted his head. "Mr. A, it's a _football_."

"Nein; _this_ is a football!" Kurt smacked a round black and white ball up in the air with his tail.

"Dude, that's a _soccer_ ball!" Alex laughed heartily. Azazel frowned and exchanged a confused look with both Kurt and Warren. Surely Alex was joking? Kurt's ball was a _football;_ Alex and Scott's ball was made for _hands_ , not _feet_.

"Wait, are we playing _soccer_ or _football_?" Erik asked as he walked over.

"I'm confused," Warren said, scratching his head. "What's _soccer_?"

" _'Soccer'_ is what Americans call _'football.'_ " Hank clarified. "In America, we have our own version of football, which is played with the brown ball and with hands. It's actually quite similar to rugby."

"Why is it called _football_ , then?" Azazel scowled. "Makes _nyet_ sense."

"Raven, what are _you_ doing here?" Alex asked with a puzzled expression.

"I'm here to play football. Or soccer?" She shrugged. "Whatever it is we're playing."

"I thought football was just for the _guys_?" Warren asked. Raven narrowed her eyes at the winged youth. She rippled her scales, and suddenly a red-headed young _man_ in a numbered jersey now stood where Raven had been.

"There, problem _solved_." She announced smugly. Azazel grinned proudly at his wife's antics; she'd never been one to back down from a challenge, let alone be told what a _woman_ could or couldn't do.

"Ok, let's form teams," Hank clapped his hands. "Alex, Azazel, Kurt and I are one team. Raven, Warren, Erik and Scott, you're the other team."

"You're putting _both_ teleporters on the _same_ team?" Alex frowned. "Seemed _stacked_ , Big Foot."

"We already agreed no mutations can be used during game play," Hank shrugged, "so it shouldn't be an issue."

"But Raven's using _her_ mutation!" Scott pointed out.

"You said _guys_ only, so I'm a _guy_." The red-head shrugged. "It's not like I'm using my mutation for a competitive advantage."

"Does she ever do that when you're... _alone?_ " Warren whispered, making Azazel snort.

"Only when we're feeling _adventurous_ ," he teased.

" _Eww! Stop!_ " Kurt begged, his hands shooting up to cover his ears.

" _Relax_ , Kurt. It was _just_ joke. Your mother and I... you know what? Forget it." Azazel shook his head. The kid turned bight purple any time _adult interactions_ were mentioned within earshot. Kurt still looked a certain degree of horrified as Hank explained the rules of the game, including no tackling, no mutations, and how the point system worked. Alex and Scott illustrated how to throw and catch, and both teams had the benefit of having at least one American on them to explain everything as they played. Azazel thought the it sounded pretty straight forward, maybe even a little boring, but he was willing to give it a chance.

 _How hard can football be?_ He thought as he stared down the opposing side, waiting for his team to kick-off.

* * *

 _ **Noon**_

Football lasted about twenty minutes, or two full plays, before the teams collectively gave up.

"I think I chipped a _tooth_ ," Erik surmised, baring his teeth in a mirror to check his smile.

"I think I chipped my _head_ ," Kurt moaned, shifting his ice pack. He and Erik had collided pretty good on the last play.

"I'll _trade_ you," Scott huffed as Dr. McCoy secured a bandage around his ankle. The blue man handed the boy a second ice pack.

"Luckily it's only a sprain. Just keep it iced and elevated for the rest of the day. You'll be good as new soon enough."

"I thought we agreed, _'no mutations'_?" Kurt watched Alex scowl at his father as the blonde put his arm protectively around Scott.

"We agreed no _using_ mutations. My tail is _nyet 'using'_ mutation! Is part of my _body,_ like _arm!_ " Kurt's father scowled back, holding his tail as if to illustrate. "Is not my fault Scott _tripped_ on it."

"More like you tripped him... "

"What's that _smell?_ " Ms. Crocker wrinkled her nose. Kurt glanced over at Dr. McCoy's lady friend. Ms. Crocker arrived just as football ended, and she was becoming a regular at the school. She was vision-impaired, and like her scientist boyfriend, she had quite an advanced sense of hearing and smell to compensate. Even her seeing eye-dog Penny seemed to notice something was wrong, and thrust her snout into the air, sniffing away.

As if on cue, Clarice appeared in the doorway of Uncle Charles' private media room where the group had retired until dinnertime. She moved like a ghost, ignoring everyone and bee-lining straight for the bar, where she poured herself a tall drink of what Uncle Charles jokingly called _'the good stuff.'_ A commotion could be heard in the direction of the kitchen, and sure enough, a small cloud of smoked wafted into the room, seeming to follow Clarice. She turned and looked blankly at the group. Her shirt was clearly singed in two areas, and she had grease and flour smeared on her face like some kind of tribal war paint.

"How is dinner coming along?" His father teased, smirking at his sister's disheveled appearance. Kurt wasn't sure what his aunt replied - it was clipped and in mean-sounding Russian - but her sharp words made Raven laugh and Azazel eyes go wide for a second before he growled back in Russian. Clarice ignored him and threw back her drink, only to immediately pour herself another one.

"Pardon my intrusion," Uncle Charles said politely when he appeared in the doorway. By now, there definitely was smoke behind him, and Kurt would hear Ororo and Jean screaming. He frowned; none of this seemed good at all. His uncle looked at Clarice and smiled, but Kurt could see the panic in his eyes. "Clarice, the stuffing is doing that thing again and ... "

Suddenly there was a loud crash in the kitchen, followed by what sounded like Ororo yelling _'sorry'_ repeatedly.

"Is there anything I can...?" Kurt started, but Clarice merely threw back her second drink and walked back into the madness of the kitchen. Jean appeared a moment later holding a tray of crackers and what looked like a bowl of dip. Uncle Charles smiled nervously and nodded at her offering.

"First course: appetizers! _Bon Appetit!_ "

* * *

 _ **2:00 PM**_

 _I told you this was a bad idea_ , Raven concentrated, _but you never listen to me, and now..._

 _Raven please_ , her brother's strained voice echoed in her head, _we're having enough trouble in here as is. I don't need a lecture right now; we only just got the turkey roasting, and..._

 _Charles, it's already 2 o'clock!_ She groaned mentally. _When are you planning to serve dinner? Midnight? 2 AM?_

"This dip is terrible," Erik whispered, making a face and he put down his cracker. "I thought artichoke dip was supposed to be _cooked?_ "

"I'm not even sure those are artichokes. Who made this, anyways?" Alex discreetly spit his into a napkin.

"Charles," she sighed out loud.

 _Yes?_ His voice sounded again.

 _No, not you_ , Raven concentrated. _I was just answering a question, and..._

" _Moya koroleva_?" Raven blinked at her pet name and looked up. Azazel nodded towards her hand of cards. "Is your turn."

 _... Charles, just focus on getting dinner. We're fine. For now._

At present, Raven, Azazel, Erik and Alex where engrossed in a game of Rummy. Hank was giving Carly a tour of his laboratory ( _hopefully bedroom, if he's lucky_ , Raven smirked to herself; she rather liked Carly, and it was good to see Hank so smitten with someone), and Jean and Ororo - who'd both been banished from the kitchen after knocking over the soup pot - were sitting with Scott and Warren, watching some city parade on the media room's television. Kurt was in the hallway, and from his muted, rapid German - too fast for even Raven to understand, as good as her German was - he was on the phone lamenting to Jiamine or Stefan how his Thanksgiving dream was quickly devolving into a _nightmare_.

She sighed and played a card. Raven wanted her son to be happy, and everyone was trying hard to go along with his quickly assembled plans, but it seemed the stress of the day was really getting to Kurt (not to mention Clarice). After a few more plays Raven folded her hand (much to Erik's delight, as he won the pot of chocolate coins they were gambling), and walked over to the teens on the couch. She leaned down to be eye-level with Jean and Scott.

"You're both average, middle-class, American kids, right? No one grew-up in a super rich household?" Both teens shook their heads no, and Raven nodded. _"Good._ So, here's the deal: Kurt really wants to experience a normal, _all-American_ Thanksgiving. What did you two do as kids when this holiday rolled around that made it memorable?"

"Alex and I made paper turkeys and wrote what we were most thankful for on them, and my mom hung them up in the dining room," Scott smiled. "That was always super fun."

"And my parents would let my cousins and I decorate the dinner table: we'd gather sticks, flowers and pine-cones for the centerpiece, and draw a place mats for everyone," Jean added.

"Perfect!" Raven clapped her hands and stood up. "I'll be right back."

She walked into the hallway towards Kurt, tapping him on the shoulder. He spun around quickly like she'd frightened him. He said a quick goodbye to his phone companion.

"Hi Mom," he brushed his hair back and forced a smile. "What's up?"

"Can you take me to the art supply room?" She looped her arm through his. "There are a few things I'd like to get."

* * *

 _ **4:00 PM**_

"Man, that is one _messed up_ turkey!" Scott giggled as Kurt held up his construction paper monstrosity.

"Easy for you to draw a turkey when you have _five_ fingers instead of _three_." Kurt laughed before turning around to show his drawing off to his parents. He was grinning madly, as if he was a little kid in art class. "What do you think?"

"It's beautiful!" Raven indulged. Azazel smiled and held up his drink in approval.

"I would not eat a bird that deformed," he added in Russian, smiling as Kurt beamed. As soon as the boy looked away, Raven jabbed him in the ribs.

"Be _nice_ ," she hissed.

"What? It's not like he can understand Russian." The red mutant rolled his eyes and got up to pour himself another drink. They were still waiting on the first course of dinner, which was in _'just a few more minutes'_ as Charles had promised about one hour prior. Luckily, the telepath seemed to give up on his no-alcohol before dinner agenda, although the kids were still banned from drinking. Azazel didn't think that was fair; he'd been able to drink since he could remember, and besides, it was supposed to be a holiday. _It's bad luck to celebrate without spirits,_ he thought. He was happy that Raven found something for the teens to do that they really seemed to enjoy. Unlike Little Sister, who was not enjoying this day at all.

Azazel frowned and sipped his wine. Clarice was _not_ happy. He'd seen her just an hour ago looking like she was ready to cry or murder someone or both. He wished he could help, but cooking was never his strong suit, and he was sure he'd end-up being more of a nuance in the kitchen than even Charles.

He glanced at the clock. They were pushing late afternoon, with only crackers and that disgusting dip served to tide them over. He'd thought very seriously about teleporting to his cabin to get some food from home, but Raven snapped at him and Erik when she caught them planning to sneak out. He sighed and returned to the couch, looping his arm around Raven. She laid her head on his shoulder and sipped her own glass of wine. He hoped dinner would be ready soon. He wasn't sure how much more of smiling at these weird paper-birds he could take.

* * *

 ** _5:00 PM_**

"I don't want to _alarm_ anyone," Ms. Crocker said, sniffing the air, "but something's _definitely_ burning this time."

Kurt dropped the pine cone he was placing on the centerpiece and quickly looked to Clarice. His aunt had taken a break for five minutes to visit and have a glass of wine. As far as Kurt knew, his uncle had been left in the kitchen with _very strict_ instructions not to touch _anything_ in her absence. She locked eyes with Kurt, looking panicked. Then, a dark cloud of smoke started seeping into the room from under the door, making the entire group (save for poor Scott) jump to their feet.

" _Oh no!_ The _turkey!_ " Clarice wailed as she bolted towards the kitchen. This time, Kurt and several others were on her heels. She threw open the kitchen doors and thick, noxious smoke rolled out, causing her to cough violently. His father pulled her back quickly, putting his handkerchief over her mouth to help her breathe. When the initial smoke dissipated, Kurt saw Uncle Charles next to the oven, beating it with a kitchen towel.

"It's _alright!"_ He yelled and coughed and snapped his towel. Orange flames started glow around the edges of the oven door. "I've got _everything_ under control!"

"The _hell_ you do!" Erik yelled, and both he and Raven pushed past Clarice into the kitchen. Kurt watched his mom grab his uncle's wheelchair handles and drag him away as Erik, now with a kitchen towel and pressed to his face, quickly turned off the oven. He then opened the door.

Sure enough, the turkey was on _fire_.

Thick smoke poured out, and Warren forced himself past Kurt. He quickly beat his wings to clear the air. Unfortunately, while his feathers pushed away smoke, they had the undesirable effect of _encouraging_ the flames. Erik jumped back as bright orange fire burst from the oven door, nearly hitting him.

 _This is bad,_ Kurt thought miserably as chaos erupted all around him and the turkey burned. _This is really, really bad._

"Somebody _do_ something!"

"Get some water!"

"Get more towels!"

"Doesn't anyone have a _water_ mutation?!"

" _No mutations in the kitchen!_ "

But it was too late; Ororo raised her hands and conjured a small rainstorm. Unfortunately in her panic, the African mutant made the clouds form over the _people_ , not the fire. The false sky opened up and drenched everyone in a matter of seconds.

Soaking wet, Kurt swallowed hard in defeat. He teleported near the stove and seized Clarice's oven mitts, quickly sliding his hands into them.

He knew what he had to do.

* * *

As suddenly as it started, the smoke and fire disappeared.

"Is everyone all right?" Hank asked, looking around the kitchen as soon as they could breathe. Azazel brushed away the strands of wet hair clinging to his face, and wiped his beard, flicking the water on his hand towards the floor. He looked down at Clarice, who was huddled against him. She was drenched, her blonde hair sticking to her face, making her green eyes look even larger. Everyone around them was soaked to the bone. It seemed only Raven, Erik, and Charles, standing on the other side of the kitchen, had been sparred from Ororo's rainstorm.

"Wait, where's Kurt?" Raven looked at Azazel in alarm. He glanced around but sure enough, their son was missing.

In a heartbeat, the blue boy appeared near Raven, wearing oven mitts and looking miserable. He pulled off the gloves and threw them roughly on the kitchen table, sighing loudly in frustration.

"What...?" Clarice untangled herself from Azazel's arms and stepped forward towards Kurt. "What just happened?"

" _I didn't know what to do!"_ Kurt yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "I _panicked_ and I grabbed the turkey and teleported outside and _threw it into the pond!"_

It was _too_ much. The madness of the entire day - the stress of cooking, the failed attempt to play football, the emergency arts and crafts, the indoor rainstorm and finally, Kurt's moment of sheer panic resulting in him throwing their entire holiday dinner into the pond - finally hit him. Azazel put his hand to his mouth, biting down hard on his finger, but it didn't help.

Exactly three seconds after his son's admission, the red mutant started laughing so hard that he had to sit down right there on the wet kitchen floor. Soon he was joined by everyone, hollowing hysterically, unable to even look at one another less they burst into laughter all over again.

Well, _almost_ everyone joined him.

When Azazel finally started to calm down, he looked up at Kurt. But, the boy wasn't laughing with the rest of the group; he looked sullen, and on the verge of real tears. Azazel wiped away his tears of laughter and looked him thoughtfully. All his son wanted wanted to was to have nice holiday time, and everything seemed to backfire spectacularly. The red man wished he could at least blame the mishaps on Peter, but he couldn't this time, because...

 _Wait, Peter... that's it!  
_

Suddenly, he had a _brilliant_ idea. He teleported over to Kurt and linked arms with him. The teen looked up in confusion, but Azazel merely smiled and put his hand over his sons. Both melted into a cloud of red, black and blue smoke.

* * *

 _ **7:00 PM**_

"I'm thankful for everyone who helped in the kitchen today and for this _delicious_ dinner, even if it wasn't _exactly_ what was planned!" Clarice grinned as she she reached for another slice of pizza. "I'm also thankful that _goddamn_ turkey is at the bottom of the pond."

Next to her, Peter laughed and munched happily on his own slice. In his lap, Freddy snoozed peacefully.

"I'm thankful that the pizza place was even _open_ on Thanksgiving," Raven added, licking her fingers. Kurt saw his dad playfully elbow her.

"See? And you keeping saying I can _nyet_ _make_ dinner."

"I can't believe you are eating _again_ ," Wanda shook her head at her brother. "You had like _three_ plates of food at mom's, and then pie after that."

"Hey, I it's not my fault I have a super high metabolism!" The speedster responded with a shrug. "Plus, I had to run Kurt and Azazel to the pizza joint after they showed-up at mom's. Those two trips alone burns a ton of calories."

"Well, I'm thankful for my wonderful, _ambitious_ family and students," Uncle Charles smiled and held his pizza slice aloft in a toast.

"And I'm thankful you keep inviting me over for some reason," Erik added with a laugh, matching his gesture.

"I'm thankful for dry clothing," Jubilee giggled, making Ororo roll her eyes. Half the room was wearing their pajamas, thanks to the storm the African mutant whipped up.

"I think we should make pizza at Westchester holiday tradition!" Jean added, which was met by around of happy approvals.

Kurt beamed as the everyone took turns giving their thanks, poking good natured fun at one another, and finally eating dinner. The pizza had been a _fantastic_ idea; in the aftermath of the destroyed turkey, his father remembered the day Peter first brought pizza for Clarice and how much the speedster raved about it. Thinking fast, Azazel teleported them to the Maximoff's front door and asked Peter to take them to his favorite pizza place. Luckily it was open, the wait wasn't too long, and between Kurt and Azazel, they were able to jump back to Westchester with ten pizzas. Peter and Wanda joined the crew after their family's own holiday wrapped up, and just time time for the final Thanksgiving tradition, led by Dr. McCoy.

The blue scientist stood up in the middle of the room, holding out his hands to get everyone's attention.

"Here's a holiday tradition that I think we can all _agree on_ : post-dinner Christmas movie!" He announced, and was greeted by a round of cheers and claps. "Alright, now we just have to pick which one to watch..."

" _It's a Wonderful Life!_ " Jubilee volunteered, clapping her hands.

"Oh, let's watch _Miracle on 34th Street!_ " Jean said. "That's my favorite!"

"I second that one!" Scott added.

" _Charlie Brown Christmas_!" Wanda suggested.

"Wait, I change my vote to that!"

" _Gremlins!_ "

"Peter, _Gremlins_ is _not_ a Christmas movie!"

" _Yes_ it is!"

" _No_ , it's _not!_ "

"Why aren't there any _Hanukkah_ movies?"

As Kurt sighed and listened to the room dissolve into yet another argument, a familiar arm slipped around his shoulders. His father stood next to him, watching the room fight as he held up his glass of wine.

"Our first real _all-American_ holiday, _moy mal'chik_?" He looked at Kurt with a lopsided smirk, but Kurt could see a glimmer of real happiness in his pale eyes. Azazel then pulled Kurt to him in a half-hug, pressing his cheek against the side of Kurt's face. "Of all the things in my life, I am thankful most of all for _you_."

"Thanks, Dad." Kurt smiled and hugged Azazel back. The two then continued to watch the room bicker. After a moment, Azazel motioned for Kurt to look down. He did, just in time to see his father discretely pouring wine into Kurt's glass from a bottle held by his tail. Azazel put his finger to his lips and winked at Kurt.

"Do _nyet_ tell anyone I am giving you wine, _da_? And, happy _Thanks for Giving_."

Kurt laughed, and using his tail, he clinked his glass against Azazel's. In spite of all the ups and downs of the day, Kurt was thankful most of all that he was was there with his family, perfect holiday or not.

* * *

 _A/N: Happy Thanksgiving friends! More to come in "_ Monster Moments" _over the next few weeks :)_ _If you like what you read here, drop me a DM or review. I love hearing from you & you inspire me to keep writing! _


	3. Girls

**Girls**

 _In which a teenage Azazel contemplates life, friendship, and chocolate in the middle of the night. This scene takes before_ "Monsters" _begins, and roughly in the late 1940s (post-WWII). All conversations in (implied) Russian._

* * *

" _Psst!_ Azzy? You _awake?_ "

Pulled back from the cusp of sleep, Azazel rolled onto his side in the direction of the voice. He yawned and started to rub his eyes only to have a burst of pain swiftly chase the remaining drowsiness from him, making him bolt upright in bed. He clenched his jaw, putting one hand gingerly to the bandages binding his wounded eye. He blinked, and as his good eye adjusted to his dim surroundings, he saw not only his own icy breath, but a face looming in the darkness.

" _Neena?"_ He asked in surprise as he swung his legs over the cot's side. The thin blanket itched as he moved, and its fabric almost nothing to keep out the dank and cold of the barracks. " _How_ did you...?"

" _Shhh!_ " She chided, and Azazel shook his head and rubbed his eye again. Sure enough, _Neena Thurman_ was crouched next to his bedside, a finger pressed to her lips as she motioned for him to be quiet. She shouldered a small rucksack, and a devilish grin lit up her face, her bright smile glowing against her midnight skin. All around them, he could hear the rhythmic breathing and snoring of the other recruits; the other _male recruits_. Neena had preformed quite a feat by sneaking into the boys' barracks in the middle of the night. Male and female fraternizing after curfew was strictly forbidden (not that it prevented some intermingling, but still... the punishment if she was discovered would be _severe_ to say the least).

"Think you can take us to the rooftop?" Neena whispered, and Azazel nodded, not entirely trusting his voice. As quietly as possible, he started pulling on warmer gear over his under clothing. He couldn't retrieve his coat from the closet without risking waking someone, but he did have two sweaters nearby. That would have to be enough for their secret trip outside. He _hated_ those sweaters - they were far too large and riddled with self-patched holes - but all recruits' clothing were leftover, hand-me-downs from the Soviet war years. Even Neena's clothing was an old sniper's uniform, but she was apt with sewing needles and thread, so her fit was far more flattering. In their rare moments of spare time, Neena was teaching Azazel how to sew, which helped _tremendously_ considering his tail; until he learned how to stitch tail slits, he'd had to wear pants backwards to accommodate his extra appendage. Azazel was lucky that least his boots fit, and that he had two pairs of good socks. As he pulled his laces tight, he promised himself again that as soon as he finished training and could afford it, he'd never wear this _junk_ clothing again. One day he'd wear nice, tailored clothing all the time - fancy suits even - _bourgeois_ or not.

He stood when finished, and taking her hand, Azazel closed his eyes and imagined he and Neena standing on the roof. A heartbeat later...

" _Wow!_ " She praised as soon as they appeared. She turned to him and squeezed his hand. "Your teleporting's getting much stronger. I wish my mutation was half as _useful_."

"Being an expert sharp-shooter seems like a pretty good mutation to me," he added, releasing her hand.

"Yeah but I'm only good with guns, not knives," she teased. "That's _your_ department.

A light snow was falling, but it was colder outside then he'd anticipated. He started shivering almost immediately, prompting Neena to quickly produce a blanket from her rucksack. She motioned towards the building's ledge, and the two sat with their feet dangling over the side, huddled under the blanket as they quietly gazed up at the stars.

If he had to guess, Azazel would say he was around fifteen years old, and Neena believed herself to be sixteen. The two had practically grown up together, arriving to the training camps as young children and quickly excelling to the top of their class. There were only a handful of mutants in their program, but because of his blood-red features and her dark African skin, the two had formed an instant bond as the only _colored_ children in a sea of white faces. Azazel glanced sideways, studying Neena's face as she watched the sky. She had a patch of pale skin marking her left eye roughly in the shape of a diamond. She called it _vitiligo_ , and much like his tail, it made their _otherness_ stand out, even in their own small circle of mutant recruits.

Neena was the closest person Azazel had to what he'd call a _best friend._ The two shared everything with each other, which was exactly why Azazel found himself confused as to why he suddenly felt so _funny_ around Neena over the last few months.

He'd started to notice little things about her - how she absentmindedly twirled her hair when deep in thought, or how perfectly straight her teeth were, or how she moved with such grace and conviction when they were sparring - things that he hadn't ever really thought about before. A few weeks back, one of their comrades had cause quite a stir when he somehow smuggled a _Western_ magazine with images of half-naked women into the barracks. In the secret hours after training, the recruit used it to leverage power, trading a quick look at the magazine for a few cigarettes or other desired goods. Azazel and Neena pooled their resources to get a peek inside the hotly debated contraband. He'd been shocked when he finally saw pictures; all the women Azazel knew didn't look anything the delicately feminine, lace-wearing starlettes smiling alluringly from the glossy pages. Even Neena was quiet as they flipped though it, commenting only that the fine stockings and lace underthings the women wore didn't look very practical or warm. Later that night, Azazel had a strange dream about Neena, and although he couldn't fully remember it, he could remember that she'd been wearing lace stockings and laughing at him. He woke-up with both an erection and face flushed with embarrassment. He'd never told her about his dream; she'd probably have laughed at him in real life if he did.

"When did you get back?" He asked quietly, suddenly feeling self-conscious at his own thoughts. Neena wasn't a telepath, but the last thing he wanted was to get a hard-on right then, sitting so close to her and thinking about that weird dream.

"A few hours ago, and I have a _surprise!_ " She grinned and opened the rucksack next to her. She held up something small and wrapped in bright silver and red foil. Azazel recognized it immediately.

"Is that...?"

"Yep, _real Krasny Oktyabr_ ," she giggled, peeling back the foil to reveal the chocolate bar nestled inside. "You have _no idea_ how hard this was to smuggle in."

Azazel felt his mouth start watering. Sweets of any kind were punishable by at least a _week_ in solitary confinement. He'd tasted chocolate only once in his life - last year, as a prize when he won his level's swordsmanship competition - and he still remembered how decadent the treat had been.

"Here," Neena broke the bar and offered him half.

"Are you _sure?_ " He raised an eyebrow. She was offering him a lot of chocolate; chocolate that she could easily trade for other sinful contraband. She nodded, and he eagerly accepted. He broke his share into small pieces so he could better savor it. As soon as the first bite touched his tongue, he closed his eyes. It tasted like _heaven,_ and just as wonderful as he remembered.

"So, where do you think we are _this_ time?" She asked after a few moments. He opened his eyes and looked across the landscape. It was nondescript, with snowy trees and fields and some industrial looking buildings in the far distance. The recruits were moved around quite a bit to different training facilities. It wasn't uncommon for them to stay only a week or so at one place before being loaded into trucks and transported elsewhere. Sometimes the trips took many days, and often they slept in the back of trucks during these moves.

"Not sure, but last week I heard Commander Pavlichenko say something about _Omsk_ ," he shrugged, "but I could be wrong."

" _Pavlichenko?_ The bitch who shot you last winter?" Neena snickered. He scowled and glanced away. He didn't like to be reminded of that particular incident, especially since it was Neena who taunted him into mouthing off at the trainer to begin with.

"How's your eye?" She reached towards the bandage, but Azazel gently slapped her hand away.

"Don't touch it. It's _healing,_ I won't lose sight in it, thankfully."

"Well, you're going to have one wicked scar there, that's for sure."

" _Great_." He frowned and readjusted the bandage. He had a hard enough time being red, having tapered ears, fangs, _and_ a tail; now he was going to have a _giant scar_ cutting across his face, too. He was already self-conscious about the stupid scar on his chin; he'd just started shaving earlier that year, and he was already contemplating growing a beard to hide it.

"Hey, come on, don't be so down." Neena said encouragingly, playfully punching his arm. "Scars are can be _handsome_ , and besides," she tapped her own left eye, "now we can be _twins_."

"Do you remember your family?" He changed the subject, taking another small bite of chocolate. He'd rather not talk about their appearances anymore, or his injury.

"A little," she admitted quietly. "I was so young when everything went to _shit_. I remember my father, mostly; he had the same skin condition as me, but with white patches all over his hands too. I know I had a mother and younger sisters, and I remember it was my chore to fetch water at the river every morning, but I don't really remember much else before my village was burned. I was smuggled aboard a boat to be sold as a slave - I _do_ remember that - but as soon as they realized I was a _mutant_ , I ended-up here. You?"

"My father died before I was born, and I can't really remember my mother, but I do remember she looked _normal,_ and not red, or with a tail. I think once she said I looked like my father. I know she really loved him, and she got in a lot of trouble for running away with him. We lived on a mountainside, and I remember we kept goats. I was taken from her by soldiers one day, and ended-up here like you. "

"Do you think you'll ever have your own family some day?" She turned towards him, her eyebrow quirked.

"What, you mean like a _wife_ and _k_ _ids?_ " He laughed and shook his head before motioning to himself. "God, _no!_ Who would want _this_ , anyways? I'm a _freak_."

"You're not a _freak_ Azzy, you're just _different,_ " Neena shrugged. "And who knows? It's a big world, and there's got to be more of us out there. I mean, if you could be born with red skin, maybe somewhere there's the girl for you who's also _red_ , or _green_ , or heck, _blue_."

"Yeah, _right_." He snorted dismissively. "I'd like to see _that._ "

"You know, _I_ think you're kinda _cute_."

He stopped laughing and glanced over at her. Neena looked at him evenly, with no hint of teasing. Oddly, he felt his stomach flip-flop.

"I'm going to kiss you now, _Ok?_ " She said, dropping her voice.

" _On the mouth... ?!_ " He startled, but before he could say anything else, she quickly leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. His eyes grew wide and he stiffened for a moment before instinctively moving his mouth against hers. Neena's lips were flush and warm and inviting, and kissing was _way better_ than the chocolate he'd just eaten. She tilted her head slightly and parted her lips, letting her tongue brush up against his, and then...

Azazel was suddenly standing on the other side of the roof. He stumbled, almost landing on his face as he tripped over his tail. The blanket was wrapped around his shoulders like a cape.

" _Smooth move_ , Ace."

He looked across the way, horrified to see Neena now with her hand to her mouth, laughing. His face burned, and he felt like a complete fool for involuntarily teleporting in the middle of their kiss. _My first kiss_ , he realized glumly. He knew Neena had already kissed a few boys, but _he'd_ never actually kissed anyone before. She waved him back over. He walked back, too ashamed to teleport, and he hoped his face wasn't too much a tell for his embarrassment.

"Um, I didn't mean to do that..." He started, but she held up her hand to interrupt.

"Look, there's something I wanted to tell you, and well, tonight just _proved_ it." She took a deep breath and turned to him. Azazel felt his heart swell; he'd be ready, this time, for their next kiss. He leaned forward, closing his eye.

"Azzy, I think... I like _girls_."

"You... _what?_ " He sat back, blinking in confusion. Neena suddenly looked ashamed herself, and stared at her hands in her lap.

"I've felt this way for as long as I could remember, but looking through that magazine with you a few weeks ago... I can't stop thinking about how beautiful those women were, and much I _liked_ looking at them, and how much I wanted to do stuff like kiss and touch them. And you're the _best_ guy I know, so I figured that if I kissed you and I didn't like it, then I was definitely into girls, and..."

"You _didn't_ like kissing me?" He asked quickly, feeling rather crestfallen. Neena looked up in alarm.

"No, I _did_ like it and it felt really nice, and you were great, teleporting and all," she smiled sadly. He frowned as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it with the back of her hand. "It isn't you, it's me. I just... look, if there was a guy for me, it'd be you, but I don't feel like I like you in a romantic way. I wanted to kiss you to see if that changed my mind, but it didn't. I like girls. I'm just... it was hard to admit it out loud, even to you. I was _scared_. And I'm sorry if I hurt you; that wasn't my intention."

"Oh," Azazel said nodding. "I understand."

" _Really?_ " She looked up hopefully, wiping away another tear. Honestly, Azazel didn't really understand, but he could tell it was what she needed to hear right then. He'd have to think about everything she'd just confessed, but at the moment, all he knew was that it didn't change who Neena was. She was still his friend, even if she liked girls. After moment, she leaned over and hugged him tightly. He could feel her shaking slightly from the fear of her omission.

"You're still my best friend," he said, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders again. Neena sniffled before laughing.

"And, I'm still going kick your ass in training tomorrow, bandages or not."

Azazel smirked. She laid her head on his shoulder. He bit into his last piece of chocolate, watching the sun just start to rise. He supposed it was a good enough consolation prize.

* * *

 _A/N: I really just liked the idea of writing about Azazel when he was about Kurt's age, and going through awkward years, crushing on girls and not sure what to do about it. It's a contrast and prelude to his older, much more confident self._


	4. Best Dressed

**Best Dressed  
**

 _Kurt has nothing to wear to his first school dance; good thing Azazel and Raven have his back. This scene is set between Chapters 15 & 16 in _"Monsters." _Sweet fluff & small Easter egg for for _"Stranger Things."

* * *

"Hey Crawler! Who you gonna ask to _The_ _Snowball_?" Scott whispered across the study hall aisle.

"The _what?_ " Kurt whispered back, glancing up from his biology notes. A chewed-up pencil slipped from his mouth, falling to the floor with a resounding clatter. The indigo teen winced as he bent to retrieve it, feeling self-conscious as many disrupted students' eyes bored into him. Fall finals were next week, and he felt overwhelmed by the amount of material he had yet to master. He didn't want to disappoint the Professor - or risk losing his _special scholarship_ \- by preforming poorly on any of them. Now here Scott was throwing something else at him to think about.

"You know, the _winter formal_ after finals?" Scott tilted his head, looking at Kurt as if he should understand the question.

"What's a _formal_?" Kurt knew what the word _formal_ meant in English, but not in the way Scott was using it.

"Oh man! I keep forgetting you've never attended _regular_ school," Scott chuckled. " _The_ _Snowball_ is a dance. You dress-up in a suit and tie, and you ask a girl to go as your date."

"So I dress up and then ask a girl?" Kurt quirked an eyebrow, making his friend snicker.

"No, you ask a girl _first_ , and then the night of the dance you wear a nice suit, and she wears a fancy dress. You dance together and drink punch and hang out with all your friends. There's great music and it's tons of fun. But, you better ask someone soon before all the good dates are taken. I asked Jean to go with me last period, and she said _yes_." Scott blushed slightly when he said the redhead's name, making Kurt grin. He knew Scott and Jean really liked each other, and Jean confided in him that she'd kissed Scott recently, and not just on the cheek. _The Snowball_ would be the first thing to a real date the two would have.

" _Boys?_ Please cut the chatter and get back to your books." The study hall teacher gently reprimanded. Both teens muttered apologies and returned to their notes. Kurt tried to read his textbook, but he wasn't thinking about biology anymore; now all he could think about was who he could ask to the dance. It seemed like such a fun activity, and he didn't want to miss it. Suddenly, he thought about the pretty new girl he'd met just yesterday: Wanda Maximoff. He'd love to ask her to be his date, but he could barely talk around her without getting all tongue-tied. He didn't want to make a fool of himself in front of her, or _worse_ , hear her say no. _Maybe Jubilee could_... _wait, that's it!_

" _Psst,_ Scott?" He whispered excitedly. "Can you ask a girl to go to a dance as a _friend_ instead of a romantic date?"

"Sure," the teen shrugged, "why not?"

"Cool!" Kurt nodded, but then frowned when he looked down at his outfit. "Oh, but I don't own a suit!"

"No worries," Scott smiled, "I can get one for you."

" _Really?_ " His golden eyes lit-up hopefully.

"Yeah, _easy_. Alex is driving up to visit this weekend. I'll just ask him to bring a few of his old suits from home. One of them's gotta fit you, and..."

" _Boys?_ Unless you're planning to ask your textbooks to be your dates to the dance, I suggest you drop the conversation and resume studying for your finals." The teacher interrupted again. This time both teens blushed as their classmates giggled. Kurt turned back to his notes, but couldn't help smiling a little. He was going to this very first school dance, and he knew exactly who to ask as his date.

* * *

Just after next period, Kurt spotted Jubilee in the hallway. The energetic girl was practically bouncing as she raced to class.

"Hey Jubes!" Kurt waved.

"Hey Blue! What's up?" She smiled warmly as she skipped over to him.

"Um, can I ask you a question?"

"Technically, you just did." She snickered, making Kurt rolled his eyes but smirk; Jubilee had a fondness for playfully teasing him. "Hey, make it quick though because I'm running late for my philosophy class."

"Well in _that_ case." Kurt bowed dramatically and offered Jubilee his hand. "M'lady, allow me to escort you through these dangerous lands to thine class."

She laughed and took his hand. A heartbeat later, both teens stood outside the Professor's classroom, about three flights up from where they'd just been.

"Sir Kurt, you're a lifesaver! How can I ever repay you?"

"Well, I was wondering if you had someone to take you to _The Snowflake_ yet?" He asked.

"You mean _The Snowball_ , right?" Jubilee tilted her head.

" _Ja_ , sorry. _The Snowball_ ," he tried again, twisting his tail in both hands nervously. "Um, do you have a date to the dance yet?"

"Not _yet..._ " Jubilee said sing-songy as she clutched her books to her chest and grinned.

"Would you want to _maybe_ , I _dunno_...?" Kurt took a deep breath before blurting everything out. "Do you want to be my date? Like go with me, but as friends? But, you don't have to if you don't want to, and...!"

"Kurt, I would _love_ to go to _The Snowball_ with you on a friend-date!" She giggled.

" _Wunderbar!_ " He smiled widely, showing all his fangs.

"Meet me on Saturday in the lobby of the girls' dormitory at 7 PM for pictures. Oh, and my dress is red and gold and I _adore_ orchids."

"You... _what?_ " Kurt blinked in confusion. "Orchids?"

"Yeah, you know _orchids_? The _flowers_?" She stressed. "For my corsage?"

"Oh, _ja_ right!" He nodding vigorously. "For your _corsage_ , of course!"

"Ok, I gotta to get into the classroom before I'm _really_ late now." Jubilee gave him a quick hug. "Thanks for asking me to the dance! We'll go with Scott and Jean and we'll have a ton of fun!"

"See you later!" He waved as she skipped away. In the last hour Kurt managed to score both a suit and a date for the dance, but now he faced his next big challenge: _what in heaven's name was a corsage?_

* * *

" _Corsage,_ noun _; a small bouquet worn at the waist, on the shoulder, or on the wrist, by a woman._ " Azazel peered at Kurt over his Oxford English dictionary. The indigo teen was happy that the red mutant also had no idea what the word meant, although now he was presented with a completely different problem: Kurt needed to somehow procure a corsage by Saturday evening.

Presently, it was Monday afternoon, four days after he'd asked Jubilee to be his date and just one day after Scott handed him an old grey suit and white dress shirt from his brother. Scott told him that Alex didn't need the suit or shirt returned, so the teen could alter it any way he needed; seeing as Kurt would have to accommodate his tail, he was grateful for Alex's generosity. As soon as he could, Kurt sought out Azazel, and presented him the suit. Kurt hoped the red man could help him with alterations, like he helped with Kurt's clothing the night they met in Latvia.

"How is it you have tail but do _nyet_ know how to sew?" Azazel asked. He looked directly at Kurt, who sat on Azazel's bed while Azazel held up the grey suit and carefully examined the garment. The man had a pretty intense stare, one Kurt would have found scary if he didn't know how _nice_ Azazel actually was.

"I never needed to, I guess?" Kurt shrugged. "All the women in my German family know how to sew, so they always helped with my tail. Besides, sewing is a _woman's_ job."

"I did _nyet_ know a sewing needle could be a _man_ or a _woman_ ," Azazel rolled his eyes before shaking his head. " _Mal'chik,_ someday soon you and I will sit down and have talk about your ideas of men's work and women's work." He turned back to the suit and frowned. "This _fits_ you?"

"Honestly, it's a little big, but it's the best I can do on short notice," he answered. "The dance is this weekend and I don't have money for a new suit; I'm lucky I already have a tie to go with this one. Now I have to figure out how to get a corsage too."

"Alright, stand here, and stand still." Azazel tossed the suit on the bed and motioned for Kurt to stand in the middle of the room. Kurt teleported over, and as soon as he reappeared, Azazel positioned his arms so they were stretched out. Kurt watched him take a roll of bright yellow tape and hold it up against his arms, legs and neck, all the white jotting down notes in Russian.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked, trying to see what he was writing.

"I am measuring so I know how much to take in suit." Azazel paused and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Kurt, have you never worn clothes that _fit_ you?"

" _Nein_ , not really," the teen shrugged casually. "At the Munich Circus, we take what we can get."

"Well, come back day of dance and I will have this fixed," Azazel waved at the suit before pointing at Kurt. "And _nyet_ worry about the flowers. Just come to me an hour before you meet your _devotchka_ , _da_?"

Kurt nodded, feeling relieved. He knew he could count on Azazel to help.

* * *

The second Kurt disappeared, Azazel wrinkled his nose at the old suit heaped on his bed. There was _no way_ he was letting Kurt wear _that_ in public. The top and bottom didn't even match, and the coat was far too large for Kurt's lanky frame. The boy was built like Azazel, and needed something more slim-fitting; Kurt might as well be swimming in the old suit. He knew it was a kind gesture from the Summers' to give Kurt a suit so he could go to the dance, but still...

 _This won't do_ , he pursed his lips as he threw the suit in the trash. Not for _his_ son, at least. The red mutant closed his eyes and vanished. Seconds later, appeared in the kitchen of a quaint apartment, far from Westchester.

"Thanks for knocking, _asshat,_ " Clarice said, not even bothering to glance up from her book. She was sitting at the kitchen island, casually stirring a bowl of Ramen. " _Seriously?_ What if I was dancing around naked and you just showed up in the middle of the room like that?"

"Then I would be scarred for life," he retorted dryly.

"Look in the mirror Big Brother," she snickered, glancing up and pointing to her left eye. "You're _already_ scarred for life."

"You're really funny, you know that?"

"The only thing _funny_ going on here is is your ability to somehow _always_ appear just after I've made food," Clarice shook her head. "Are you hungry? Wait, scratch that; why do I even _bother_ asking?" She sighed dramatically and walked to the stove. Grabbing a second bowl, she ladled a big helping of soup into it. "One egg or two?"

"Two please," he said as he pulled up a chair across from her. Clarice set the bowl in of him and settled back into her own seat. She grabbed her chopsticks and picked at her noodles.

"So, what's up? I thought you were in _America_ today."

"I was, but I need your help something," Azazel said nonchalantly while stirring his soup.

"This better be _good_ ," she raised an eyebrow. "It's my day _off_."

"It is to help _Kurt_ ," he answered, and at that, Clarice perked up.

"Well _shit_ , why didn't you say so? What can I do to help you with my _secret nephew_ who you still have yet to take me to meet?" She folded her hands under her chin and blinked at him in innocent sarcasm. Azazel pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I have asked Charles and he has agreed that you may come to the school."

" _Really?_ "

"Yes really. I will take you with me next week."

" _Promise?_ "

"Yes."

" _Promise-Promise?_ "

" _Yes_ , I _promise_." He sighed. "Now, about Kurt?"

"What about Kurt?" She leaned back and crossed her arms.

"He is going to his first dance. He needs a suit, and I'd like you to help me choose one that would be fashionable for a young person. One _girls_ will like."

"That I can help with." Clarice glanced at the wall clock. "What time is it in Milan?"

"Just about _closing time_ ," Azazel smirked and picked up his bowl. He and Clarice had pretty expensive tastes, but luckily for them, Azazel's mutation allowed them to "shop" at any store in the world. Azazel never thought twice about taking things like clothing, and besides, they only took from stores that could afford to lose a few pieces; he never took anything from someone who couldn't afford to be with out it. And, as someone who's physical mutation barred him from being allowed into most stores in the world, Azazel didn't feel bad about taking things from a few rich humans, anyways.

"Well, let's finish lunch and go shopping!" Clarice winked.

* * *

 _ **Saturday Night...**_

Kurt knocked on Azazel's bedroom door. His dress shirt and tie were slung over his arm. The indigo teen was a touch nervous about picking up his suit only an hour before he was supposed to meet Jubilee and the others. It left no time for alterations or adjustments if it didn't fit, but he supposed since it was a hand-me-down, it'd have to do. Azazel opened the door and looked very pleased to see him.

"Come," the man waved him in and Kurt glanced around, but he didn't see the suit anywhere. He turned back to Azazel, but the red mutant just stood next to the door with his hands clasped behind his back, smiling.

"So...," Kurt scratched the back of his neck, "where's my suit?"

"I have _surprise_ for you," Azazel held up a finger. "But, you must wait. I be _right_ back."

Kurt sat down on the edge of the bed. A few minutes later Azazel reappeared, now holding a rather large black bag on a hanger. The red mutant hung it on the wardrobe door. Kurt peered over his shoulder as Azazel unzipped the bag, and inside was...

... the most lovely jet-black suit he'd ever seen!

"What is this?" Kurt gasped and teleported over for a closer look. "This isn't Alex's suit, this is..." He reached out and touched the suit's sleeve. It felt smooth, like silk. "This is _amazing_!"

"Here to go with it," Azazel grinned as he unzipped the other side of the bag. Inside was a crisply pressed dress shirt, as deep red as Azazel's skin and a golden tie nearly identical to Kurt's eyes. "You can change here, in the bathroom."

"Wait, is this for _me?_ " Kurt asked excitedly, and Azazel nodded. He looked again at the suit. He couldn't believe it.

" _Da_ , is... old suit of mine," Azazel said. "I thought maybe it would fit you better than first one. Now, go try on!" The man ushered Kurt and the suit towards the attached bathroom. It took Kurt a few minutes to change into it, but it fit like a dream.

"What do you think?" The teen asked as he stepped out, holding his arms out like a showman. Azazel gave him a low whistle and an appreciative nod.

"Looks very nice, _moy mal'chik_. Here," Azazel fussed with a few parts of the suit and re-tied Kurt's tie. He then folded gold and crimson handkerchiefs into the suit pocket. When he was finished, he took Kurt by his shoulders and turned him around to face the mirror.

"I look like a _movie star!_ " Kurt gushed, admiring his reflection. "I mean, if movie stars were blue, and had tails. And, _fangs_."

"Speaking of _blue_ ," Azazel flipped Kurt's wrists over, and fastened cuff-links onto his shirt. They were gold with tiny blue stones in an intricate design. "Final touch, _da_?"

"These are so beautiful!" He gushed. "I'll take really good care of them, and I won't lose them, I promise!"

"This is gift to you," the red man motioned to Kurt's suit. "All of it. Is yours to keep."

"Azazel, you're the best!" Kurt grinned. "How can I ever repay you?"

"Nyet need; is pleasure to help," he smiled warmly at Kurt before tapping on his watch. "Now, go to girls' dormitory to get your date. Raven will meet you on the way. Remember: _devotchkas_ do _nyet_ like to wait, even if they keep you waiting."

* * *

Raven jogged towards the girls' dormitory, her false blonde curls bouncing with each hurried step. She carried a small box that contained a white and red orchid corsage tied with gold ribbon. She was on the look out to intercept Kurt before he reached Jubilee. All around her teens were dressed up and collecting their dates. Luckily, her _blue_ son would be easy to spot, even in a crowd.

A few days ago she'd woken up to find a note slipped under her door. All it read was: "Boy needs 'corsage.' Orchid? Red and gold? Meet him on way to girls' dormitory before dance." The note was unsigned, but the messy handing writing and broken English let her know exactly who scribbled it. She went to a florists that day to order a corsage, making sure it was elegant enough to match Azazel's tastes.

Raven stopped to scan the crowd, and just a few minutes later, Kurt appeared in the middle of the lobby. She waved to him.

"Hey Raven!" He teleported to her side. "Azazel said you wanted to meet me?"

"Yeah, to give you _this_." She handed him the box. He tiled his head and she motioned for him to open it.

"Of course, the _corsage!_ " He looked up and smiled happily, and she returned the gesture. Part of her so badly wanted to touch his face or hug him, but she knew she couldn't. "I almost forgot about this. Raven, thank you! This is perfect!"

As he closed the box, Raven saw a flash of blue and gold at his wrist. Without thinking, she reached out and grabbed his sleeve, gently turning his hand over.

"Do you like my cuff-links?" He asked brightly. "Azazel gave them to me. He gave me this _whole_ suit, actually."

"Yeah, they're... _beautiful_." Raven recognized those cuff-links immediately, because _she'd_ given them to Azazel for their first wedding anniversary. She couldn't believe he still had them, after all these years. She looked over the rest of Kurt's outfit. If her son had red skin, he'd almost be miniature version of his father when Raven met over twenty years ago.

" _Kurt?_ " Both blue mutants looked over to see Jubilee standing on the base of the stairs. Her hair was elegantly styled up and she wore a crimson cheongsam dress with gold detailing and jewelry. Raven thought she looked stunning, and judging by Kurt's open jaw expression, so did he.

"Come on man, it's photo time!" Scott and Jean appeared next to Jubilee and Kurt rushed off to present the corsage to his date. After taking too many photos, the teens left for the gymnasium to enjoy the dance.

Raven remained in the lobby doorway, watching them depart. She'd be joining them shortly; somehow, Charles had roped her and Hank into being chaperones for the night.

"Well, he certainly looks _dashing_." Raven turned at the sound of Charles's voice to see him wheeling up to her and motioning to Kurt.

"That's an _Armani_ ," she answered, shaking her head.

"Think Kurt has any idea he's wearing a $5,000 suit?" Charles laughed, making her sigh. Raven doubted Kurt had any idea his entire outfit cost that much. Azazel was never cheap with clothing, and honestly, why should he be? It's not like he could walk into a store and be tailored for a new suit on the spot. She'd always turned a blind eye to that kinda stuff. Charles smiled and offered his arm in a gentlemanly gesture.

"Shall we, my dear sister?" She laughed flipped her scales, now wearing a shimmering cocktail dress, and slipped her arm through his.

* * *

Clarice was perched on the edge of her seat, happily tapping her toes along to the music. She could never get her hands on American albums like this back in the East. She made a mental note to ask Azazel if she could go shopping when they returned to Westchester next week so she could pick-up a few cassette tapes. America was far more mutant-friendly and had way better music, so she could go to a record store without causing a scene. Clarice watched the teens from her and Azazel's hidden spot up in gymnasium's announcer box. In the little room, they had a bird's eye view of the festivities below without fear of anyone seeing them. If there was one thing Big Brother excelled at, it was finding these hidden places where he could see without being seen (although, Clarice supposed that sadly, a lifetime of hiding had a lot to do with that talent).

She could barely see Kurt - he was more of a blue blur than anything else - but Azazel promised her again that she'd meet him proper in just a few days. Tonight was a special favor because she'd begged him to bring her just for a little while to see the dance. Azazel hadn't told the Professor about it, so Clarice had to stay very hidden. As she watched the kids dance, Azazel stepped in front of here and held out his hand. She looked up at him and frowned.

"But we _just_ got here!" Clarice pouted and made no move to take his hand.

"I think you misunderstand," he laughed and thrust his hand towards her. "May I have this dance?"

"Are you _fucking_ kidding me?" Now Clarice was laughing. " _Geeze_ , a few weeks of hanging out with these kids, and now you're a big _softie_." He shrugged and kept his hand out. Clarice shook her head and took it.

She'd never slow-danced before, and she was surprised how good a dancer Azazel was. She wondered when in his life he'd even learned to dance, and if was something he used to like. _Another mystery for another day,_ she thought. For now, she let herself enjoy the rhythm of the music and the excitement of meeting her nephew in a few days. And possibly, getting her hands on a few new records.

* * *

At the end of the night, Kurt and Scott walked Jubilee and Jean back to the girls' dormitory. Kurt had the biggest, silliest grin on his face. His friends had been right; _The Snowball_ had been great fun, and he even got to dance with a lot of cute girls, not just Jubilee. Everyone loved his suit too, which made him feel quite debonair.

"Thanks for asking me to your friend-date," Jubilee smiled when they reached the stairs. "I had so much fun!" Before Kurt could reply, she got up on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek. He turned bright purple and stammered out a thank you. Next to them, Scott kissed Jean goodnight, and both girls walked up the stairs together. Kurt waved goodbye again when they reached the top.

"See, told you it was worth it," Scott punched Kurt's arm playfully. When Kurt turned around, he paused; Wanda and Peter were walking their way, both carrying suitcases. Peter perked up and waved to them.

"It's _Kurt_ and _Scott,_ right?" He asked, and the boys nodded.

"Hi!" Kurt smiled at Wanda (but, not wide enough to show his fangs; he didn't want to scare her this time). "I um... didn't see either of you at the dance tonight?"

"Nah Brah, we had a family thing today," Peter said.

"I'm actually just moving the last of my things in now," Wanda motioned to her suitcase.

"Oh cool!" Kurt smiled, suddenly not having any idea of what else to say. They stood there smiling at one another awkwardly.

"So do you need help?" Scott offered, but Wanda shook her head.

"No, but thank you. Peter's got this, right?" She looked at the speedster and he snapped on his goggles, disappearing in a blur with both suitcases.

"Well, I should get going too," she said, turning towards the stairs. "Maybe next dance, huh?"

"'Night!" Scott waved. After a few seconds, he lightly smacked Kurt's arm, starling the indigo teen back to reality.

"Goodnight Wanda!" Kurt called out after her. The redhead stopped and turned around, smiling at Kurt.

"Hey, I like your suit. It looks really nice on you."

" _Danke_...er, thank you," Kurt stammered out.

"Well, good night," she nodded and continued on her way.

Kurt was now officially in heaven.

* * *

 _A/N: ALL OF THE FLUFF. ALL OF IT._


	5. Let's Get Cooking

**Let's Get Cooking**

 _As Clarice adjusts to her new civilian life, Charles helps her discover where her true passions lay. Scene between Chapters 54-55 of_ "Monsters." _Cute Clarice & hungry Charles._

* * *

"Um... _knock, knock?_ "

Charles glanced up from his lesson planning to find Clarice peeking into in his cabin's doorway. She smiled shyly.

"Hi Professor! Sorry, if I'm interrupting you...?" She motioned to this notes, but Charles grinned and quickly waved away her concern.

"Not at all." He dropped his pen and flexed his fingers. His hand felt and tired and cramped from writing, and her unexpected appearance was a welcome distraction. "What brings you by?"

"I have a small favor to ask." She opened the door and showed him a bowl brimming with what looked like cookie dough. "Mind if I use your oven for a bit?"

"Of course," he waved for her to enter, "but, is something _faulty_ with your oven? I can have Hank take a look at it..."

"Oh, our oven's _fine_." Clarice snickered. "I just had to get out of the cabin for a bit. I couldn't handle all the _screaming_."

"They're not fighting again, are they?" Charles frowned he followed Clarice into the kitchen area. She put her bowl on the counter and starting fiddling with the oven's temperature nob.

" _Fighting_ or _fucking_ , it's hard to tell the difference sometimes." She smirked until she saw what Charles was sure was an expression of utter horror on his face. Clarice bit her lip, looking apologetic. "Oh, _sorry._ I didn't mean too..."

He shook his head and held up a hand. He knew what she'd meant, but he certainly didn't want to think about _that_. While Raven and Azazel were easing back into their relationship, it hadn't exactly been smooth sailing. They loved each other, but that didn't change the fact they were still two very independent, very _stubborn_ individuals with strong opinions. Charles found it baffling how easily they could agree on major situations involving Kurt, but then immediately start bickering over trivial things like folding towels or grocery shopping.

" _Anyways_ ," Clarice politely changed topics, "I promised Kurt I'd bake him and his friends some cookies for when they get home from the mall, so here I am."

Charles observed quietly as she resumed her work. He watched her carefully lay balls of dough on a greased sheet and slide it in the oven, the set the timer. Honestly, he didn't even know his cabin had a baking sheet until she pulled out one out.

"Do you bake much?" He asked as Clarice wiped her hands.

"Not really," she shrugged, "I much prefer cooking to baking, but Kurt's got a sweet-tooth and pretty much _begged_ me to make cookies, and you've seen that puppy-dog face he can make." Charles laughed as he nodded. Saying _'no'_ to his nephew was a rarity when the boy really wanted something; thankfully, Kurt was considerate and the few things he asked for were always extremely reasonable.

"Hey, what are you eating here?" Clarice took the lid off a stove pot and peered inside.

"Nothing special, just some canned soup. Bachelor lifestyle, I guess. Actually, I'd completely forgotten about it." Charles had become so engrossed in his notes that he'd actually forgotten about his dinner. The soup was probably cold and needed to be reheated. "Normally Hank does all the cooking around here, but he's out right now, and..."

"I can make you something." Clarice interrupted, quickly moving to the fridge.

"Oh, it's alright! Really, you don't have to..." But she was already began rummaging though the produce. She pulled out a few eggs and vegetables as well as a block of cheese. A peaceful concentration bloomed on her face as she methodically sliced and scrambled. As a telepath, Charles made it a point not to randomly read people's minds, but even he couldn't help but feel the serenity and happiness radiating from her as she worked with the food. She really loved it.

A short while later, Clarice handed him a plate. On it was a piping hot and rather picturesque omelette, and it smelled _heavenly_. Charles could feel his mouth salivating as he accepted it. He took a bite; he'd been wholly unprepared for how delicious it was.

"You didn't have much in your icebox, so I hope this is alright."

"Clarice this is... _extraordinary_." He looked up at her in awe and saw her cheeks flush.

"Aww, thanks Professor! It's just an omelette. I make them all the time for breakfast."

"Seriously, if you can do this with an omelette..." He quirked an eyebrow and studied her carefully for a few seconds. "Have you ever considered attending cooking school?

" _Cooking school_? Wait, there's a _school_ for that?" She asked, clearly puzzled. "Like an _entire_ school?"

" _Several_ , actually," Charles grinned and ate another mouthful. "And a really top-notch one right in New York City. You know, I have an acquaintance who sits on the school's board. I could speak with her, and see if it's possible for you to enroll in the spring semester."

"Oh, _wow!_ " Clarice's eyes went wide and she looked taken aback. Charles felt the doubt rolling off her.

"You've never thought about _you_ going to school before, have you?" He asked as he set down his folk. She shook her head.

"The only school I've ever known before Westchester was the KGB training program Azazel put me in. In the East, there aren't as many schools as in America, and certainly not _cooking_ schools or even schools that are mutant friendly." She frowned. "But, even if I wanted to go, I don't have any paperwork, like a high school diploma. Peter said you needed that to get into college, which is why he's taking that big GED test in a few weeks, and I..."

"Don't worry about that," Charles assured. "You don't need a high school diploma for all colleges, and I'm sure I could pull a few strings. Speaking of Peter, he'll be attending a city college in the spring. You'd like to go with him."

"Did you read my mind?" She quirked an eyebrow, but her tone was playful, not accusatory.

"I don't need to read your mind when I can read your face," Charles smiled. He was quiet for a few minutes as he finished the omelette. "Anyways, you have _real_ talent, and you should think it over. It could be a wonderful opportunity for you, and it'd be fun to live in the city as a young person. I know Peter's mentioned it a few times to me."

"I've never been away from Azazel for longer than a few weeks." She admitted quietly before glancing away. She started soothing her braid, and waves of concern tinged with fear started rolling off her. Charles nodded as the implication of her words hit him. He didn't fully know the siblings history, but he did know that Azazel practically raised the girl, and the two were extremely close. He could easily understand that from Clarice's viewpoint, leaving Azazel's side to go out on her own could feel wrong, and even a bit scary.

"Clarice, sometimes you have to leave your family for a while to become who you're meant to be."

"You mean, like with you and Raven?" She asked. "Because I have to admit, if I grew up at Westchester, I'm not sure how I could ever leave."

"Well, it was a different time, and we were different people." Charles smiled sadly. "I didn't understand Raven, or what she really needed. I _thought_ I did, and I thought by sheltering her here and keeping her mutation a secret, I was _helping_ her; but really, I wasn't there for her in the way she needed, or the way she deserved. I was still treating her like a child, and failing to realized that she'd grown up, and had different dreams, needs, and desires than I did. That day on the beach was the first time I realized my mistake; that I needed to let Raven go so she could become who she was meant to be. The hardest thing I did that day was watch my sister - my _best friend_ \- walk away, and not go after her. And over the years, it was almost impossible at times to not use my powers or Cerebro to find her, and try and convince her to come home."

Clarice reached out and her hand over his, squeezing it affectionately. He hadn't realized he'd been close to tears until that moment, thinking over his past and reflecting on his relationship with his own sibling.

"I think you did the right thing, if that matters." She offered with a smile. "If you hadn't let Raven go, she wouldn't have found Azazel, and then we all wouldn't have Kurt, or be a family."

"That is very true, my dear." Charles laughed just as the oven timer dinged. Clarice put on mitts and pulled out the freshly baked cookies. Now the cabin smelled warm and wonderful, like a home. She picked up a cookie.

"Here Professor," Clarice laughed as she broke it in half, "have a cookie."


End file.
